


The First Nowell for Arthur

by EverythingCanadian



Series: Winter Writing Gifts [17]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur doesn't die, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Multi, Old Christmas Songs, Winter, not beta'd we die like cowboys, wow thats an actual tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-22 14:47:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22084279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverythingCanadian/pseuds/EverythingCanadian
Summary: "Imagine Person A was singing Person B a love song, but Person B is a dense dork so they don’t get the hint." Not exactly but I tried
Relationships: Abigail Roberts Marston/John Marston/Arthur Morgan
Series: Winter Writing Gifts [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/614929
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	The First Nowell for Arthur

**Author's Note:**

> v late with this but fuck me work and being sick sucked. However here is my fave ot3  
> for @lady-imperatrix on tumblr. ILY

John heaved a sigh as he watched Abigail play softly on their piano, striking the keys slowly under her fingers as she had just learned a few Christmas carols, having had lessons from the saloon pianist. The songs were slow now, but once she got the hang of them she would play them at normal speed. Today however she wanted to practice to her heart's content as Arthur was on supper duty that evening. 

John just rolled his eyes as “The First Noel” played one more time under Abigail’s fingers. However this time she decided she wanted to serenade quietly to Arthur who was slowly butchering up some quail for them all. 

Abigail’s words were soft, barely there. But both John and Arthur heard them. “The first Noel, Our Arthur did say, was to certain us ranchers in fields where we play.” 

It took everything for John not to guffaw at his wife’s play on the song’s words. Her smile was heard as she hummed the rest, not yet finding the jokes she wanted to lace into the carol. In the end John wheezed softly, getting up off the couch and putting his book down to walk over to where Abigail was sitting. 

Jack was outside with Sadie and Rufus, playing in the snow for the time being before they got too cold. Arthur could see them from the kitchen windows. But his attention had turned from Jack and Sadie, and his own meat carving to slowly step out of the kitchen to look at Abigail. 

“Now- I know those aren’t the words to the song. Mind you, it’s a mighty fine tune you found there Mrs. Marston.” Arthur leaned against the corner of the wall just in the hallway to the kitchen, his hands washed of quail and being dried in one of the newer kitchen towels Bonnie MacFarlane gifted them in November. “I’d say you was tryin to butter me up to get a better pick at supper time?” Arthur gave her a small confused smile, wondering what in God’s name she was up too. 

Both John and Abigail turned to look at Arthur, the piano stopping it’s music when Abigail let the keys lay still. 

John’s eyebrows raised to his hair, surprised that Abigail’s little serenade went over Arthur’s head. Shaking his head John lightly placed his hands on Abigail’s shoulders, “Our wife was singing her love for you. Well- our love I should say.”

“Oh.” Arthur paused. He let his hands drop, towel gripped in one of them. Pushing off the wall with his shoulder he came over with clunking boot steps to stand just next to the piano bench. “I have to say I’m flattered, Abby. Love my wayward ranchers too.” He let his mouth pull into a side smile, his nose following a little and making his usually rugged and weathered face seem younger and more innocent. 

Arthur’s eyes had grown softer over the years that they had lived together. His body filled out a little more with stability and set meals. His restless mind and darker thoughts had calmed down significantly in the few years they had been home on the Marston-Morgan ranch. John and Abigail had curbed his self-deprecation into self-acceptance and now he was on the way up into self-love. 

No longer did the Marston’s wait for the  _ but _ when Arthur was paid compliments like this. Once they would have expected a short  _ I’m far from an angel _ . But not this time. And with that John leaned over and kissed Arthur sweetly, beard catching with Arthur’s even if they were both trimmed. 

Abigail’s small whine came as she waited for her kiss. “He’s not the one who sang for you.” She argued, no heat behind it and all the feeling of her specific brand of affection came with her words. 

Arthur pulled away from John after another moment. “I know Abigail. Wanted to save us the trouble of hearing this one complain I was taking too long to get to him. Now c’mere.” He grabbed her hand and hauled her up, catching her when she stumbled a little. Her snort at Arthur’s playfulness was answered with his lips, his mouth warm and inviting, his beard soft and smelled of the spicy oil John had gotten him when they were last in town, and his hands found their way to her waist and her back, holding her there for a bit. He hummed into her mouth before letting them part. “I ‘preciate your kind words darlin’, ain’t nothin better than hearing that you love me that much. I love you two all the same.”

None of them noticed when it started to snow lightly outside, barely hearing Jack and Sadie’s laughter and Rufus’ low woofing outside their windows. For that moment it was just them sharing space. 


End file.
